


I Can't, He's a Normal

by CassandraFeather



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: American Simon Snow, Bisexual Simon Snow, Divorced Natasha Pitch, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Happy Ending, M/M, Musician Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Simon Snow, Oblivious Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, One chapter is angsty, Slow Burn, There is still magick btw, Vampire Natasha Pitch, Vampire Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, afterwards lucy took simon to the US, coven barged in on the vampire attack, lucy turned the mage in, the rest is fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraFeather/pseuds/CassandraFeather
Summary: Tyrannus Basilton Pitch and Simon Snow are two of the biggest up-and-coming artists, but they both have a secret: they are mages. They are also queer. When Baz accidentally outs himself, Simon decides to level the playing field. The once rivals will now have to navigate the fields of fake-dating while tip-toeing around the subject of magick. After all, he's a Normal, right?
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 20
Kudos: 154





	1. Questions, Queerness and How They Relate

Baz

I always love meet and greets. It used to be more fun, though. It was more personal back in the days. Now it’s perfectly monitored: one picture, one thing to sign, one question. Usually I’m just asked the same question: who I am dating or who I fancy. Maybe those questions keep being asked because those are the only questions I never answer. 

I came out at age 14. It has never been a problem. Well, of course the world of mages had some problems with it, me being the only Pitch heir and stuff. But I’m still a Pitch, which means people generally wouldn’t dare to criticise me. We are the most notorious family in the world of mages these days and my mum is Natasha Pitch: headmaster of Watford and respected coven member. And it wasn’t the biggest scandal we’d been through anyway. That honour goes to my father, by being unfaithful to my mother. Mordelia is quite alright, though, so I guess one good thing came out of it.

Oh dear, did I just space out? The girl in front of me looks quite disappointed. She must think I’m ignoring her.

“I’m so sorry, darling, I think I zoned out there for a moment, so I didn’t quite catch your name.” Her face lights up.

“It’s Gea, uhh...” She has a thick American accent. I think I’ll ever get used to the way they speak over here.

“You can call me Baz.”

“Uhh, thanks, Baz.” She looks up at me with those big eyes again. 

“And, what did you want for your picture, darling?” I once slipped up and called a fan darling when she came up to me. I was walking in London with my sister and I mistook her for Mordelia. Other fans got jealous of her so from that moment on I decided to just call everyone darling. It’s easier that way. Less controversy amongst the fans. A lot of girls otherwise get confused. They get their hopes up thinking I’m interested in them when I as much as look at them. When in reality I’m hopelessly queer. 

Maybe I should let them know that sometime. 

“Uhh, just a selfie together would be great.” She said. “And Basilton Pi— I mean Baz, I was hoping I could ask you who your latest song Water was about?” I let her take the picture before I go on to answer that question.

“Darling, you know I don’t talk about my love life. It wouldn’t be fair to the people I’ve dated. So how about another question.” Booing sounds emerged from the queue. I was not aware of everybody listening in. 

“You don’t even have to tell us her full name. Just give us something!” Someone from the crowd yells at me. Similar shouts can be heard all around. 

I can’t take this anymore. 

“Well maybe it just isn’t a her.” 

I guess this is it. I should call my mum to tell her I’m coming back to England early. I had planned to take up some classes next school year, but maybe my mum could use an extra pair of hands around Watford this year too. 

The blue haired girl that asked the question smiles at me. And I think maybe it’s not so bad after all. 

“Mr. Pitch do you have any idea how bad this is?”

“I have no doubt that you’ll tell me exactly how bad this is.” I say. Harold rubs his glasses up off his nose in exasperation. 

“Why don’t you wait in the hallway while I figure out a way to deal with this. After I’ve spoken to Baker and Snow who also have meetings today and make working with him a lot less hard, we’ll make a plan on how to go from here.” I gasp at his words.

“Please, turn down the homophobia. Unless you want to have a lot more free time in the future.” He knows I can walk away. He may have helped me in my career, but I won’t stand with an agency that’s homophobic. “Nevertheless, I’ll be waiting in the hallway. I’ll give you a chance to apologise later.”

“You look like somebody kicked your puppy. Was one of your hair products sold out or something?” Snow says from his seat in the hallway. There’s only a two-seater so I’m forced to sit next to him anyway after I tell him to piss off. “Snappier than usual, Basilton?” 

“If you would be so kind as to shut your bloody mouth, it would be greatly appreciated.” I snap back. 

“No, let’s hear it. What did you do this time?” Snow smiles like he’s in for a good story of how I fucked everything up. 

“I made a small implication that my newest song possibly wasn’t about a girl. So now all the headlines are talking about how I lied to them and snapped at a girl and how I’m gay and my ‘fan base’ is trending on both Twitter and Tumblr, which would be awesome, if they weren’t talking about how disgusted they are with me. And, of course, instead of getting support from this agency, I’m being yelled at about how bad this all is and how I never should have said anything.” I huff. “Do you know how many girls have thrown themselves at me when I as much as looked at them or called them ‘darling’. I don’t even want to call girls ‘darling’ but I have to because I slipped up once. Only once! And now they know they’ve got no chance and I thought it would be great, but it’s really not.” Snow looks like somebody kicked his puppy. 

“Okay, now, that’s a lot and we may not have time to unpack all of that.”

“Are you seriously making John Mulaney references right now?” 

“Yes, shut up. But how could this agency not support you. We’re constantly fighting over top of the charts?” Snow looks at me like he actually expects me to answer. 

“They know the chance of any other agency taking me on now is small because it’s not certain yet how much backlash there’s going to be. Plus, they’d still have their golden boy if I left and I’m losing my fan base already so there won’t be much fighting for the top of the charts.”

“No.”

“What, no?”

“They won’t have me. Come on, let’s go?”

“I thought we were doing some sort of grand escape. So why did we go here? We’re literally next door from our agency.”

“They have great— “ 

“Don’t even try to say it Snow. We both know they don’t. They might even have the worst coffee in all of New York.”

“Okay yes, but what they do have is paparazzi everywhere, because it’s right next door from our agency.” He says with a devilish look on his face. 

“Since when is that a good thing?” I ask confusedly. 

“Since now.” And then he kisses me.

Simon

Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had. But Baz looked so sad and he isn’t supposed to look sad. He is supposed to have this stoic face and a competitive edge. We’re supposed to bicker. He just looked so broken. 

It seemed like a very idea to come out of the closet too. We could be on equal ground again. And Baz wouldn’t be fired. I don’t want Baz to be fired. We may have a ‘rivalry’, but it’s not really a rivalry. It’s just bickering.

And it wasn’t the dumbest idea I’ve had. Even as Baz is pacing around and scolding me, he looks more relaxed, like a weight has dropped off his shoulders. 

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh, yeah, of course.” He looks at me sceptically. 

“Then what was I saying?” He crosses his arms and stands in front of me. He usually already has a height advantage on me and it’s even worse now because I’m sitting down and he’s standing. I feel small like this. 

“Me dumb, you smart. Me should not act dumb again.” I say. He huffs. 

“Not quite, but I see you got the basics.” He smiles softly. It’s almost magickal to see him so soft. Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all. I think we can do this together. Two big voices in the musical industry, two queers. This is going to be one hell of a ride, but one for the books.

This is going to work out, because I don’t know what I’d do if it didn’t. I don’t know what would happen to him if I didn’t. What if he gets harassed on the streets? What if he gets attacked just because he’s queer? I know I can protect myself. After all, I’m a mage. But can he protect himself? 

“So…”

“So, what, Snow?”

“What are we going to do now?” He looks at me with furrowed brows. I look back at him with pleading eyes. Please, let this work.

We keep looking at each other, until he breaks.

“Alright, fine! We already got fired for this, so we might as well make a point of it.” He gestures exasperatedly with his hands and looks down at the floor. Then he looks up to me again. “But,” he says, with an evil glint in his eyes. I sigh. “I’m planning our next… outing.”

“Sorry, T-rex, I think I already did all the outing…” I smile back at him.

“I meant—you know—never mind, just don’t call me that ever again.” He’s trying to look exasperated, but he’s smiling like an idiot. I’m not going to call him out on it, though. I like him like this. Uptight never looked good on him. 

Baz takes the blindfold off my eyes. We’re standing in front of a desk. The lady behind it smiles kindly at me and asks me for my passport. I must be looking at her as dumbfounded as I’m feeling, because she repeats the question. This time I do hand her the passport.

Once we turn away from the desk, I turn to Baz with the loveliest smile I can muster. “Basilton, my darling, my dear, light of my life,” I pause for dramatic effect before I start whisper-yelling. “what the actual fuck are we doing here? Why the hell are we at a fucking airport? We don’t have time for this.” 

Before I can continue scolding him, he simply says: “We actually do have time for this now, because you got us fired, remember?” 

I guess there is no denying that, so instead I just calmly ask what we are doing here. 

“Well, I promised my aunt I’d come visit here sooner rather than later and I suddenly have all this free time,” He looks me sharp in the eyes. “so, I figured I could go. And what would look better than my ‘boyfriend’ flying halfway all the way across the Atlantic Ocean, just to spend more time with me.” He is smiling quite goofily now. It’s adorable. That evil bastard.

Baz

What the actual bloody hell was I thinking. Coming to England means staying at the Pitch manor. Which would be great, if I was not with a Normal. Even if he didn’t notice any magick, assuming I could convince both my mum and Fiona not to use any for as long as we’re staying, he surely would notice the vampirism. It would be kind of hard not to notice two fanged people wandering about, drinking cartons of blood. He’s an idiot, but surely not that much of an idiot.

I could tell him to just sod off and find a hotel. He would probably just comply. Or get a flight back. It would be easier, but I don’t think I’m enough of a bastard to leave him alone in a foreign country without as much as a clean pair of underpants. 

Maybe I could just do a nothing to see here every time he sees something he shouldn’t. That would be alright, I think. But, by merlin’s beard, that’s going to be a lot of work. Between my mum, my aunt and Penny a lot of unnecessary spells are always flying around. 

It’ll be a lot of work, but it’s possible. 

I think I’m going to sleep now. Maybe if I sleep, I won’t feel as thirsty. I always forget how long these flights take. 

Snow probably won’t notice how long this flight takes, though. He dozed off hours ago, the disaster.


	2. The Childish Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz needs a drink. The pitches can be a tad petty. Mutual pining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: a bit of internalized homophobia.

Baz

Fiona is standing underneath the parking sign at the airport, like I knew she’d be, with her arms folded and her we’re-in-public-but-when-we’re-not-you’re-so-in-for-it scowl. I knew I wouldn’t get a warm welcome. We’re pitches, after all. But this is cold. Even for us. 

“So, which one is your aunt?” Snow asks me. His voice is still rough with sleep. Which is quite logical because he slept through the entire duration of the flight. How is that even possible? We were on that plane for ten whole hours and he wasn’t awake for a single one of them! 

“The one that’s scowling.” I answer, while pointing to her. Snow looks like he might shit his pants.

“Uhm, so, I have to go to the bathroom and maybe we should go get a coffee and – “ He can’t finish that very poorly constructed sentence, because I drag him away by his jacket sleeve towards my aunt, making it clear that he has no means of escaping. And even if he found a way, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Fiona and I are mages and I’m a vampire. The poor Normal never stood a chance. 

Not that I’d actually kidnap him. But I could. 

I hate how appealing kidnapping him sounds right now. I really need a drink. 

Fiona tells me to get into the backseat with her if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you look, so I do. I think I already properly pissed her off when I brought a Normal with me. It’s not that she dislikes Normal or anything. It’s just that at home we’re free to just be and I’m ruining that. It’s just for a few days, though. I’m sure we’ll survive. 

It seems Fiona is not as pissed off as I thought she was, because she actually didn’t point me to the backseat just to spite me, after all. There is a very familiar juice box there. I can’t really drink with Snow here, though. It’s too risky and I think Fiona realizes that, because when she looks back to me, pity shimmers through her eyes. I hate it, but I love her for it. 

Then her eyes spark the way they do when she has an idea. This can end one of two ways. Two very different ways. Most often this means she has just gotten a terribly perfect idea that would greatly annoy either my mother or me and since my mother isn’t here, I sincerely hope this ends the second way. The second way meaning she has a perfect idea that sparks joy. This one is very rare. 

We exchange stares for a while in the mirror of the car (Simon is looking very lost), before she says: “Let’s head to Pritchard’s Pub”. Have I ever mentioned that I love my aunt?   
Cook Pritchard used to be the cook at Watford, before she got her own pub. And since she is family and could easily sneak things into the kitchen, she is the only one, other than Fiona, in on my mother’s and my secret. And even now she keeps blood in her kitchens in case we have an emergency.

“Great! I’ll tell Penny to meet us there.” I can’t wait for her to join, because the tension is thick and she is always great at breaking through tensions, because she doesn’t seem to notice them at all. Ever. 

“Oh, I don’t know Basilton—I was really hoping to get to know your new boyfriend better.” That bitch. She spelled her car before I arrived, so there’s no signal here. I’m stupid. Of course, it wasn’t going to go way number two. She never has good plans. Only mischievous ones pretending they’re good.

Well, this better be fun then. 

I can hear her, and she knows. But it’s not like I can just run out of the kitchen, fangs out, to help Simon. He’s on his own now. I do listen in though, because—well, why wouldn’t I? Simon and I may be on a truce right now, but that doesn’t make hearing him struggle under my aunt’s superb interrogating skills less amusing. And what else can a vampire do, while drinking blood? 

“So, how did you two get involved?” I can almost see the evil glint Fiona’s eyes must be baring right now, making the poor sod stutter. You’d expect someone so used to having to do interviews constantly to be at least decent at them, but Snow has always been good at throwing such expectations right into a burning pile of trash. 

Some of his fans think it’s charming. It’s not. 

He finally manages to utter out an almost decent sentence. “We met at our agency and we, uhm—we hit it off.” 

“What do you like about him, then?” 

“Uhm—So—Like—He—Uhm—He has soft hair?” I can’t help but to snort out loud. Maybe I should be offended of him having that much trouble naming anything nice about me, but it’s honestly bloody funny. 

“So,” Penny starts, eyes full of fake surprise. “do Americans really call football soccer?” And don’t get me wrong, I love seeing Penny again, but I had hoped she’d side with me, but apparently, she has turned over to the dark side. What has Fiona promised her? 

Simon looks precious like this. He still hasn’t realized he’s being played. I should help him, honestly. But what is there to do? When Penny and Fiona get together, they get what they want. It’s a law of nature. 

“’m not actually American.” What the actual bloody fuck. Everybody knows Simon bloody Snow is American. He’s always talking about being born and raised in California and how much he misses his hometown. 

“Simon, you’re the most American American to have ever graced this Earth. What do you mean, you’re not American?”

“I’m British. Well, half-British, half-Welsh.” I think everybody’s jaw just dropped. 

“Then why—What—All the—” Morgana’s tits, it’s contagious. 

He shrugs. He bloody shrugs. 

Then he smirks. “Not so articulate now, huh, my love?’

“But, of course, you already knew that, right, Baz? You know everything about your boyfriend.” 

I smile with fake innocence at Fiona. ‘Of course.” I am going to outlast her, be it the last thing that I do. She’s going to get it. 

And I take Snow’s arm and lean against his side. “We know everything about each other. Don’t we, darling?” I kiss his cheek. 

He blushes ferociously. 

Simon

When we finally leave the hellish landscape that is dinner with his aunt and—best friend? Enemy? Sister? I have no clue whatever the hell Penny is to him—I turn to him. 

“Hey, darling, I wasn’t aware that we were going to pretend in front of your entire family!” We’re standing in his childhood bathroom. I was expecting it to be more child-like. But then again, his entire brand is basically built around him being some sort of vampire, isn’t it? Fucking Normals with their weird obsession for the supernatural. Not that they actually advertise him as a vampire, but his brand is certainly made to fill the hole twilight left in people. 

He smiles like he isn’t an asshole. “Well, that makes two of us.”

“What the fuck, Basilton?” 

“Look,” He rubs his temple. “I didn’t want to pretend in front of my family, but Fiona started it! I just can’t lose to her. I need to win! And what’s three people more or less? It’s not like they actually think we’re a couple anyway, but they don’t need to know we know that, you know?” 

“You know you sound like a madman, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“And like a child, too.”

“Yup, that’s me.”

“Fine!” Baz jumps in the air like he’s a six-year-old, undignified and happy. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel happy too. 

I think he will be the death of me, with his constant shifts in behaviour. Ranging from child to madman and from asshole to adorable.

I don’t think I mind. 

I think I like it. I think I like him. 

But I shouldn’t—I can’t. He’s a Normal. He wouldn’t understand it. Mages need to have another mage, my mum always says, because you need at least one person to properly understand you. 

Baz

My mom has joined the game. She is quite aware that there is no chance in hell that I’d ever date someone like Simon: clumsy, direct, awkward and she also knows that I’d never date someone without telling her first. But apparently, I’ve been gone too long. So long that now my aunt has sought after, and achieved, world domination and controls everyone. In the manor, at least. 

My mum and aunt take turns asking Simon and I questions. Half the time they try to ask the questions with the most embarrassing and fake answers, the other half of the time they try to test our knowledge of the other. They even asked Simon about my favourite colour. It used to be either emerald green or indigo, but now it’s blue, I guess.

That was probably the most embarrassing answer, because while he could just say blue and wish it was correct, I had to actually justify it when they asked me why it had changed. And, for lack of any better ideas, I blamed it on Simon’s eyes. I must’ve looked like a lovesick teenager! I am an immortal vampire and a mage! 

Fiona will be having a field day with that, but maybe if Simon and I succeed in convincing her that we are in fact a couple, she’ll be less keen on bringing up memories of this embarrassing time in the future. 

When I try to sneak Simon into one of the guestroom’s, I find Fiona standing in front of the room. She smiles at me. 

“The maid took the weekend off, but luckily you won’t need any new sheets, because Simon can just sleep in your bed.” She’s the bloody devil herself, I swear by Merlin’s bloody beard.

“I wouldn’t want to break mom’s ‘no boys’ rule.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder in a manner that would probably look jovial to any outsiders. “You’re an adult now, Baz, that rule doesn’t count anymore.”

“But mum always insisted—”

“Nonsense.” She nudges us towards my room.

Simon

I ask him whether he has a blanket I can borrow, and he looks at me like I’m the funniest creature he has ever seen. I’m an adult. I’m a fucking mage. So why does he always me feel so small?

“Snow, the bed is already decked. You can just take it. I’ll take the couch or sneak into my sister’s room or something.” And he turns to his closet, presumably to find himself a blanket. The hypocrite. Looking at me like I’m an idiot only to proceed by doing the exact thing I wanted to do. 

“Nonsense, you should take the bed. It is your bed after all.”

He turns to me, exasperatedly. “Snow.”

“You called me Simon before.”

“No, I didn’t.” 

Baz

I can feel my heart like it’s beating in my throat, taking me back to the forgotten corners of my youth where I felt so very alive.   
I feel alive now. Not because I am, but because he is. It’s like he’s spilling over. All the greys I’ve embraced, all the shadows I’ve come to know as a part of me are suddenly illuminated by his light. 

This boy, this Normal. He’s pure magick. Lying next to him is like doing magick for the first time. Unintended, but so very beautiful. Once a light like this turns on in you, you can’t imagine ever finding your way without it.

Why did I let him talk me into this? We can’t be this close. I can’t be this close to him. He’s an open fire and I’m flammable. 

Where are the wraiths when you need them? Their claws could bring a kinder death than this. It’s like heaven is opening up to me to show me all that could be if I’m good, when I’ve already sinned. 

I used to think that maybe I was punished by the universe when I became a vampire. I never told my mum that. 

We had hope, those few years. Even though we knew it was inevitable for me to become a ‘full’ vampire, we had hope that maybe it wouldn’t happen, because I was so young and because it hadn’t happened for years. 

But then it did. 

It happened only hours after my first kiss with a boy. I always thought that maybe it was my punishment for being queer. 

But seeing Simon next to me vanquishes all those thoughts at once. He’s so beautiful. Inside and out. I’ve never known him to say even one hurtful thing to someone. He’s a true angel. And if he’s queer, I think being queer must be quite alright.


	3. La Langue de l'Amour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz writes a song. Simon wants to know what it means. Penny and Fiona know more than they should and there's a concert.

Simon

I wake up very well rested. And warm. Why the hell is it so hot in here? Oh. I see. My pillow looks a bit more like a human than I expected. 

Shit.

Baz realizes I’ve woken up. “Though being dubbed a pillow is easily one of the highlights of my career, I’d appreciate it if you got off my chest.”, he says without even looking up from his phone. It’s like he got some supernatural power of sensing things or something. Like a spidey-sense. 

“What are you doing?”, I ask after I’ve gotten off of his chest. Which was bare. Which is bare. He must do some kind of sport, because his muscles are very—

He cocks a brow at me. “What are you doing?” Shit, he caught me staring.

“I didn’t think there was something wrong with checking out my boyfriend?” He rolls his eyes and decides to let it go and answer my question. 

“If you really want to know, I’m writing lyrics. Because songwriters do occasionally write songs. Not that you’d know, of course.”

I throw a pillow in his face before asking him to read the lyrics to me. His face flushes. 

“I, uhm, doubt that being of any use.”

"Try me.” He chuckles. I’d say nervously, if he wasn’t him. 

“Tu as mon cœur, mais je ne dirai jamais. Non, je ne dirai jamais en anglais. Je pense que je t’aime. Est-ce une erreur dans mon système ?”

Now it’s my turn to chuckle nervously. “I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t understand a word you just said. It did sound sexy though, so I’m sure your fans will love it. Care to translate?”

“You’re not getting it in English. It’s not quite the same.”

“Alright, but you do need to record it! Maybe we can do it today? If there is some place we can record around here, of course. Is there?”

“There aren’t really any studios nearby that I know of. The manor is kind of in the middle of nowhere…” 

“You call your house ‘the manor’?” He just laughs and throws the pillow back at me that I just threw at him. 

“Uh, shut up.” 

Penny

I’m not surprised when I find Baz in the music room. I am surprised, however, when I’m hearing him play a new song with his guitar. Usually, Baz is at his best with his violin, in my opinion, because he manages to put all his emotions into it whenever he plays. But with this song it seems he found a way to do it with just a guitar and his words. 

I want to run up to him and hug him immediately when I hear the lyrics, but I should let him finish the song. Out of decency and because Simon looks like he might kill me if I don’t let him finish. 

I hadn’t realized he had caught feelings for the boy. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Their rivalry has been turning softer over the past months. Simon even managed to release some of the heath off of Baz when he came out. They could be so good for each other, they clearly have feelings for one another, if there wasn’t a wall between them. 

But there is. 

Baz catches my eyes once he finishes his song and comes up to hug me. 

“Je suppose qu’il ne parle pas français?”, I whisper in his hear. He hugs me a little tighter. I suppose this is why we’re friends: we don’t need many words.

Simon

“Snow, did you or did you not post that song I just wrote on Instagram?” 

“I did, but only that piece you read to me. I figured me posting a sneak-peak of that song on insta would make us look a lot more convincing as boyfriends.” I didn’t. I just thought it was beautiful even if I didn’t know what it meant. It sounded beautiful, at least. 

Basilton pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just—You might want to look at the reactions. There are even a few articles out already.” 

I google our names on news. All the headlines have one thing in common: ‘love’. 

“They assumed that it was for you and that you understood what it meant since you posted hearts under it. Who does that by the way? Those hearts look cringy.” 

I read one of the articles and I finally understand what the lyrics mean. I want to seek out whoever made him feel like his love is wrong. Anybody loved by Baz should feel lucky. He’s so good. I used to think he was mean, but his heart is actually the most beautiful thing about him. The way he is with Penny, the way he smiles around his loved ones. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. 

I’m curious though. What did the other lines mean? I can’t really look it up, because I know nothing about French grammar or spelling. So, I don’t really know how to write down what I heard, but Penny probably knows French. She’s smart. She must be to be deemed a friend by Baz. (She didn’t call Baz’s mother mum, so I’ve decided that they’re not siblings, even though she probably lives here.)

‘But Penny, please! It’s so beautiful and I just want to understand what it means.”, I whine. 

“For the last time, no. Ask Baz!”

“He says it’s not good anymore when it’s English, so I can’t.”

“Well,” She looks at me curiously. “you can always try and pick up French. There is a library on the first floor.”

This house is huge. It turns out they have a fucking two-level library in here. I found some books on French and one on language spells, whatever that means for Normals.

Because the book for language spells sparks my curiosity, I decide to read that one first and it doesn’t disappoint. I had expected the title to be a joke, but it’s an actual book for spells. They must’ve not known what kind of book it was, or maybe Fiona dabbles in the occult. She seems like the type. 

When I get to the section of French, I find a spell hat I think might work: la langue de l’amour. It’s a spell that’s supposed to make people understand the person they love. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about him and whether I like him, and I think I have for a while. I always got excited when I saw Baz and I thought it was because then I could prove I’m better than him, but I think it was just simply because I got to see him again. 

And I think this spell might actually work.

I sneak up to him when he’s in the music room. He’s at the chorus, already halfway through. And at first, I think the spell might not be working, because I still hear him speaking French, but then somehow the meaning hits.

Je déteste que je t’aime  
C’est une erreur dans mon système

Tu me tourmentes, mon cher  
Ta proximité est une fortune amère  
Je commence à me sentir désespéré  
Mon cher, tu m’as attrapé 

Tu as mon cœur  
Tu as mon âme  
Mais tu es une forêt  
Et je suis une flamme

I think I feel a tear on my cheek. I get out of the room, before I do something stupid. Because the spell worked, which means I love him, which also means I understand that he’s in love with someone else. And that jerk doesn’t even fucking love him back. He deserves better. He deserves the world, but it’s not mine to give. 

Fiona

Penny comes into my room without knocking. I blame Baz’s influence on her. That brat can put on the politest smile and act with impeccable manners any time, but when he’s at home all of that turns off and he becomes the embodiment of the devil. I suppose I should probably blame that on my influence. 

“We need to help Baz, but I’m not against having a bit of fun with it, so I think you’ll have no problem helping me.” 

She explains to me how Baz just wrote a French love song for Simon and how all the signs point to Simon loving him back. 

“Okay, but Simon is still a normal. So, it’s not like they can be endgame or whatever.”

A devilish smirk paints itself on her face. It reminds me of Baz.

“I just saw Simon whip out a wand to do a la langue de l’amour.” 

We’re going to have so much fun. 

Baz

I love my aunt, but she’s a cold-blooded monster. She has decided that it is of the utmost importance that Simon and I get our act together and make public appearances all over London to make clear we’re just very happy boyfriends and not two actors who just lost their agencies and ripped their own fandom’s apart by coming out as queer. 

And, of course, that has the potential of being a very good plan. But she insisted on needing a suit and apparently the only place she can get that is this bloody shop where we are now, that is ‘coincidentally’ very famous for having made the wedding suits for a lot of notorious people. So, of course, when I just checked out what’s happening on Instagram, I found a lot of rumours about me and Simon currently either planning our wedding, already in the process of being wed, or eloping. Bloody brilliant. 

Well, I intend on making this trip worthwhile so when we are finally out of the shop, I pick up my pace to walk next to Fiona. 

“Fiona.” She ignores me. 

“Fionaaaaaaaaa.”

“Fi—Fi—Fionaaa.”

“Bloody hell, kid. Don’t you have better things to do, like hold your boyfriend’s hand and make sure he doesn’t accidentally fall into the tube network, only to never be seen again?”

“I will do that,”

“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming.”, she deadpans. 

“It’s an ‘if’ actually.” She rolls her eyes, but I continue: “If you guide us to a Waterstones, I need more books.”

“You don’t need more books, kid.”

“I do need more books.”

She stops walking and turns to me with a smirk. “Since you always insist you need more books, I figured doing the maths on it wouldn’t hurt. We have fifty bookcases, thirty on the first and twenty on the second level, each with six shelves and an average of fifty-three books on every shelve. That grants us with a total of fifteen-thousand-and-nine hundred books. That means that even if you read a book every day, which I know you don’t,” She gives me a sharp look. “you wouldn’t be done until you’re forty-seven and a half.”

“Nice maths, Fi. But I need more books, please. There have been some new releases that I really want to get my hands on. I’ll do anything.” I should remind myself to never say ‘I’ll do anything’ to Fiona again. She was ready for this moment. She whips out the kind of merchandise that is usually sold at concerts and a guitar. I should be concerned by Normals seeing her conjure a guitar out of a small backpack, but I’m more concerned about my own fate at the moment. 

Only a few moments later I’m doing an improv concert with Simon, who for some reason deemed it fun and joined voluntarily, on Trafalgar square. I have to admit that maybe it is fun. If you had asked me a few weeks ago whether I’d want to do a concert with Snow I would have said when hell freezes over, but this is actually quite alright. Our voices blend together better than I ever could’ve expected, and it seems we actually have the same taste in music. 

Since we already made our queerness quite clear by making headlines with it, we figured we might as well go with Rebel Rebel. And I shouldn’t have found it as sexy as I did when he turned to me to sing ‘Hot tramp, I love you so’. 

When we finish the song the fans chant for us to kiss. I can’t help but to agree, because frankly Simon looked bloody hot while singing Rebel Rebel. So, I push the guitar away, so it hangs behind me instead of in front of me and before I can take a look at the fans again Simon sneaks his hands around my hips and kisses me. It feels so real and good and it kind of stings that it isn’t. By ‘kind of’ I mean it feels like a whole herd of cows just ran right over my heart. 

Thank Merlin, I didn’t drink today. I’d be blushing ferociously if I had. Though I think I’m still blushing, just not ferociously. 

Simon gives me a look before turning to the crowd again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he didn’t want to let me go, but even if that were true. He’s still a Normal. It just wouldn’t work. 

“Tell me again why we’re in a bookshop when there are so many things to do here in London that would, frankly, be more entertaining.” Simons eyes gaze over the titles, but he doesn’t look invested in any of them. It would be funnier if it didn’t look so cute. 

“Look at the books! They’re beautiful. Just look at this one. It’s such a good book and this special edition is so beautiful, wouldn’t you agree.”

“I, uhm, have never read that books, so I wouldn’t really know…” I pretend to look offended. 

“You’ve never read Good Omens? Shut up!”

“I wasn’t really talking, but—”

“Shush, I’m buying this for you.” He blushes. It’s cute.

He tries to form an eloquent sentence, but it isn’t really working, so eventually he just settles on a ‘thank you’, when I stare him down. 

When we turn into bed, we don’t really make a fuss about it like yesterday. I’m too tired and he’s too distracted. For one so sceptical about books he does really seem to enjoy this one. I always get this nice feeling when I recommend or gift someone a book and they enjoy it. It’s like a small victory on my part. 

He looks up and realizes I was looking at him. 

“What’s wrong?” He looks like he genuinely thinks something is wrong. 

“Nothing, everything is perfect.” I think I mean it. He looks happy, so I can’t help but to feel happy too.


	4. Penny and the Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon are still idiots in love. Fiona's plan works in an unexpected way. Penny decides to give Baz a break while going through some pictures of their Watford years.

Simon

Yesterday was like a dream  
Today is falling apart at the seams.  
Everything spent in just one day,   
Only memories there to stay

Yes, Baz. I am aware that songwriters occasionally write songs. And how could someone not be singing from the inside when they wake up to someone as beautiful as you? A muse, an artist, a rebel. 

I try to pull myself out of my Baz-thoughts. They’re impossible. He’s impossible. He’s beautiful. We’re impossible. 

Wish me luck  
And you’d wish me a fool  
Tell a truth  
And the world would be cruel

I kind of relate to Crowley. I think he would be able understand what it’s like to be inevitably drawn to somebody who you can’t be with by nature of what you are. Demon, mage; what’s the difference? There is no difference when it comes to loving. Anything that stand in the way of our true purpose, of loving, is only a curse. 

But how could I ever see it as a curse when it allows me to see, to do, to make so much more. Magick is more than just me. For a mage magick is as inevitable as breathing. And I’m sorry for my Romeo, but I’m no Juliet. I can’t cease breathing just for him, because I don’t know what comes after breathing. What comes after magick? I’m not sure whether I can give it up just for him, but just his proximity already rendered it a possibility. And even if it’s a slight one, it’s already more than the impossibility it used to be. 

He is the kind of boy they write songs about. I felt it when we sang together. The words were not drawn from the music. There is no beat guiding me when I sing next to him. It’s my heart, thumping just for him, that guided me through the notes. Thank Merlin for the public, because I would have kissed him whether the audience demanded it or not and it would be rather hard to explain if they did not. 

Where is the devil that is plaguing my thoughts, though? He was here a few hours ago when I first woke up. He was cuddled up against my chest. And now he has just disappeared and even when I should be relieved that I get a minute to breathe without him next to me, I’m too busy missing his—well, I can’t exactly say warmth—I just miss him. Period. 

\--

My heart skips a beat when I find him. Not because I’m surprised. Because after he revealed his nerdiness yesterday, I’m not surprised even the least to find him hear. My heart skips a beat because his hair is in a bun and he’s scrutinizing the book in front of him—maybe he needs glasses-- and a few strands of his hair have fallen out of the bun and they are perfectly framing his face. He’s like a hot-librarian-dream in real life. Not that I have a thing for hot librarians, but I don’t not have a thing for them. But to be fair, I think I might have a thing for anything that at least slightly resembles him. 

I walk to meet him and try to refrain myself from pressing a kiss on his head, which is very hard. 

Baz

I can feel him coming my way. I guess being a vampire has its perks. I may be like putty in the hands of a mortal boy that isn’t even a mage, but, oh well, at least I’m not startled by him. Yay me. 

I should probably tell him about Fiona’s plans. She was pestering me about it all morning, but Simon still being asleep was a viable excuse for her. Too bad he woke up. 

“Sitting in a hot tub, zero feet apart, because we are queer.” 

What the hell is this beautiful man talking about? I’ve got no clue, but he’s beautiful indeed. Fiona is evil. Why did she just send us out to the spa to be photographed without telling us? Well, I know why she did it, but why? Hasn’t life been cruel enough to me? But no, she just had to make this a spa day. The least she could’ve done was give us a heads up, so we could’ve packed our own swimming trousers, but no, she just had to pack two very small pairs. His arse is barely even covered. Yes, I know, because I checked. 

“Dude don’t you get that reference?” He looks genuinely surprised. So youthful. Youthfulness. Yet another thing I won’t ever have. 

“As a matter of fact, I do not.”

“I’m going to make you watch all the vines when we get home.” Such a simple slip of the thing. Yet, it leaves my barely pounding heart pounding for a home with him. I want everything with him, but a house where it’s just the two of us would be a great start. Too bad that with me a whole lot of magick comes along and that he’s a Normal. A bloody Normal.

He was looking at me as my mind was running. Well, that’s embarrassing. My forehead must’ve looked all crinkly. This never used to happen to me—all these distractions. I used to be level-headed and I used to have a response at the ready, but he leaves me wondering what words even are. He reduces my mind to only images of him and all the could, but can’t, be together. Instead of judging my thinking face he just laughs, and not in the condescending way, no, just a nice laugh. The laugh that comes from knowing someone and being friends regardless. It’s a good look in him. 

In contrast to the blush on my face when he moves even closer. I’m darn sure that isn’t a good look on me. 

He moves his head closer to mine and then puts his lips very close to my ear and whispers in it. I can’t make out the first few things he’s saying because he’s—he’s him and he’s him very close to me, but I think I hear ‘camera’.

Then his lips are on my neck and I shudder and stop thinking. 

I’m surprised when our spa photos haven’t popped up yet, because if I’m right, and I am because why else would Simon put his lips on me, Simon said there we’re cameras so that means there are pictures of us and as we’re currently making a lot of headlines with our ‘scandal’ that is kissing boys and each other, those pictures should be online pretty fast. Maybe a few hours are too fast for processing though. Or maybe the brits don’t care and are just trying to see which American magazine or news site will pay the most for it. 

Simon

I’m so stupid. Of course, Baz is going to find out I’ve lied. I better hope there were cameras that I didn’t see, or he’ll be cutting of my balls—or bollocks I guess, as the brits like to call them. 

Penny 

Fiona bursts into the room. 

“Guess what?”, she says, with a very big smile on her face. I gesture at her to continue. “The plan worked!” I told her it wouldn’t work. I thought there was more needed than just water and a pair of tight speedos to make Baz lose his self-control. 

“Does Baz really have that little self-control, then?” I kind of laugh to myself. Fiona’s smile just gets more manic. 

“No, it’s not Baz who lost it. It’s Simon!” That explains it. She shows me the pictures. They’re very incriminating for Simon indeed. “Anyways, do you think we should let them do a statement?”

“Nah. It would be a disaster anyway.”

“My thoughts exactly.” She gives me a nice smile when she leaves. She looks a bit like Baz when she’s nicer. Though I suppose it’s Baz that looks like her. 

Baz and I decided to ditch Simon, Fiona and headmistress Pitch. (I will never be able to just call her Baz’s mother or Natasha.) I figured Baz could use a break after what we’ve already put him through and all we are planning to put him through. It will most likely have a good pay-out for him, though. Or be a really good prank. Either way I win, either as friend or ex-nemesis. Let’s hope for him that I win as his friend. 

We are in the library and Baz is going on about this book he loves. I’m pretty I saw Simon carrying it around. Baz must’ve given it to him yesterday then and be nervous about whether or not Simon will like it. Oh, what it’s like to be young and in love. I’ve decided to just let him rant and be the listening ear he needs while I entertain myself otherwise. Baz has kept more pictures from our Watford years than I thought he would. We’re standing right next to each other for the better part of it. 

At Watford we always stood next to each other. Like they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. We kept each other very close as we were both friends and enemies. 

I guess Baz has never been good at keeping up feuds. We started out as nemeses and became best friends. And Baz and Simon were also nemeses and—well—I’m quite sure they’ve fallen in love. 

When I finish going through the first box labelled ‘TB Hogwarts’, I move unto the second. These are from the later years. After I’ve gone over most of the pictures from our seventh and eighth year, I see a picture from our joined valedictorian speech. Which calls up a certain sense of fondness and nostalgia in me, but also a bit of annoyance. I decide to keep up my rant-responses for Baz, until a find the right timing to pester him. 

The right timing takes a lot of time, so an hour has passed before Baz has finished and I get a valuable word in. 

I show him the picture. 

“You still haven’t told me what your grade for the final essay was.” Baz’s GPA was a hundredth above me before that essay. I can only assume that he failed it quite disastrously, because after that essay his mum decided to have two valedictorians so Baz would be one of them. He has never admitted it though. “I mean it’s obvious that you failed it, but…”

He just laughs. “You know I’m not going to tell you.”

Yes, I know he never will. I’ll just ask Fiona to dig it up. It must be somewhere in this household and Fiona can find anything. I guess that must be why she’s the coven’s vampire ‘hunter’. 

From what I understand the hunting is usually more infiltration, though. But, oh well, most vampires aren’t that dangerous anyway. There aren’t really any (still up walking and talking) that would dare drink blood here in the UK. 

Baz

When I retire to my room, I find Simon watching the screen of my laptop excessively. He doesn’t even notice me coming into the room. Then again, he isn’t very observant, and I’ve mastered my fair share of stealth by learning to silently slip away from the we-don’t-say-so-but-let’s-face-it-these-are-mandatory coven parties. 

When I’ve done my evening ritual, I slip into the covers next to him, because I need sleep, lots of it, to function. It’s good I’m immortal, because otherwise I would spend very little time awake before I die. 

Simon finally turns to me and starts to tell me how much he loved Good Omens and how he couldn’t get enough of it, so started watching the series right after he finished the book. I’m very glad that he liked it, because recommending someone one of your favourite books is a bit like handing them a piece of your essence and it would suck if he hated it. Unrequited love is already painful enough without the person you love hating the things you like. 

Until deep into the night Simon and I discuss the book. We never run out of things to say, our minds just run out of words to speak when the tiredness overcomes us. I think we both fall asleep with smiles on our faces.


	5. Fiona and the Fiasco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst.

Fiona 

It’s already getting late when Penny bursts into my room. She’s looking quite determined. Then again, can this girl even look any other way? She and Baz have always been motivated beyond my understanding. I always figured that Baz was so motivated to be a good mage, because he was afraid of becoming a ‘good’ vampire, but what drives this girl? 

“Did you have anything to do with this?” I guess this time it must be Baz that motivates her. They have the kind of friendship that runs thicker than blood. I can safely say that because I’m Baz’s blood and she and Baz have a thicker bond between them than he and I have ever had and we’re already quite close. 

I don’t know how to answer her. How do you tell someone that their best friend, the person who has always been there for them, has been keeping a secret for years? And how can you possibly explain to a mage, someone that has been taught about magickal creatures, that their best friend’s mum is a vampire and their best friend too? 

Exactly, you don’t. 

“To do with what?”

“You know!”

“I don’t know.” I pretend to get frustrated. So that it seems like she is the one withholding information, instead of me. She’s a sweet kid, but she wouldn’t understand. 

She sighs. “Simon left.” 

I think I should render myself lucky that she’s looking to the ground, because I’ve never been good at pretending, so I’m sure that my ‘shocked’ face might actually look like the Pikachu-meme. Or like I’m pooping. 

“Huh? What?” I know what and how it happened. We can thank my goddamn sister for this. 

“Well, this morning everything seemed fine, but then a few hours later I heard Baz play that one song that’s almost all minor chords—you know the one—on his violin. When I went to headmistress Pitch to ask her what had happened, she just said Simon left.” 

While this is a mystery to Penny, it isn’t to me. So how about I recollect exactly what happened? 

It all started this morning. Though I suppose every day starts in the morning, but—you know what I mean. 

Anyway, this morning seemed to be quite special, because this morning the whole house was happy; Nat had finally finished her grading, Penny finally got a letter of acceptance for a job she had been wanting for a while—something about research for the coven, I think, I wasn’t hung over and Baz and Simon looked so very happy. To any outsider they’d have been those people that you never know of whether they are best friends or lovers. Even Penny and I weren’t sure whether that had just gotten friendlier or fucked. We still don’t know, I guess. 

Okay, so, happy household, yada yada, you get it. 

So, Baz and Simon were being happy together outside, being all cute and stuff, Simon resting his head on Baz’s shoulder. Baz watching him like either a lovesick schoolgirl or a hungry vampire. Let’s hope the former. You get the jizz. 

At the same time Nat was in the kitchen going in for a celebratory drink. 

Now those things would’ve been fucking fine if the two happenings hadn’t fucking gotten all tangled up. Baz could have finally been happy. Nat could have been a happy vampire all by herself. But no, it just had to all fucking smashed together. 

So, here’s what happened: Simon and Baz were in the garden, and Nat was in the kitchen getting a drink, like we established. Then Nat stepped out of the kitchen and walked to her favourite spot in the rose garden. (That’s kind of our ‘romantic’ garden. Rumour has it our great-great-great-grandmother or something ordered this building to be built, because she was in love with the stable girl, but had to marry a man to run all the Pitch-business, because women weren’t allowed to do business stuff themselves, even if they were powerful mages. And even if she was allowed to run it herself, she still wouldn’t be able to marry a woman, because, well, Normals as well as mages have a huge history of being intolerant pricks.) Okay, so, Nat sat down to have her drink and of course her fangs were out. Which would have been fine, if Baz, the lovesick idiot that he is, didn’t bring his puppy, Simon, to the rose garden. He damn well knows it’s where Natasha relaxes. Nat was, however, intoxicated by her drink so didn’t notice. And Baz was intoxicated by Simon. So, neither of them noticed the other was there. Simon did notice, though. And, of course, he turned to Baz, who had, by then, unfortunately noticed something too: the drink. He may have not noticed Nat, but his fang-system, or however that works, definitely noticed the blood. 

Now I think you all must be well aware of how Simon ran away, while screaming very loudly, and got unto the next plane to the US. 

Simon 

How can something like this just happen? One minute I’m lying on Baz’s shoulder in the sun in their beautiful garden thinking nothing could be sweeter than that moment, the next minute I find out he’s a vampire. A fucking vampire. Maybe I’d be dead if I wasn’t as quick as I was. 

I can’t help but think that that can’t be true though. I know that there in Britain all vampires are hunted down and killed. So, he would be dead if there wasn’t something about him, right? A normal vampire in Britain can’t live in a house like that and have a library with spell books. It’d be too noticeable. Also, for a Normal it would have been pretty normal to actually have a spell book, because they most likely didn’t think it actually works. But a vampire would know it was real. In Britain they should be fearing mages, they’re hunted by them. So why would a normal vampire have a spell book? 

There can’t really be anything special about a vampire, though. In essence, I mean. (Because Baz is special. His grey eyes. His soft hair. Him in jeans.) A vampire is a vampire. And there is no denying that Baz and his mother are vampires. 

But his aunt? She is very scary and, like Baz, also rocks the classic Dracula look, but I have a feeling that she may not be a vampire. Because Baz’s skin is kind of greyish. His mother’s too. But Fiona’s skin is way darker and I have a feeling that that’s how Baz’s skin would’ve looked too if he were not a vampire. 

I think Fiona protects them. I think she is a mage. 

I’m not sure how I feel about that. 

Fiona

Whatever we plot, there is a big problem. A big question: Simon? Will he be fair to my nephew, knowing that he is a vampire? I want Baz to be happy. Will Simon still want to make him happy? They were so cute together, they seemed to happy together yesterday. Almost like me and—No, I can’t think about that. 

Penny 

When I Baz stopped playing his violin this afternoon, I went to meet him immediately. Our eyes met in the hallway and we didn’t need words. We went into the library. We both knew we wouldn’t be reading. 

He laid on my lap the rest of the afternoon with his eyes half closed. His fingers looked too red. His skin looked too pale. I hated it. 

No, I hated Simon. He did this. I don’t know what he did. But he made this happen. It’s like he broke something in Baz.

He hurt my best friend. 

I wanted to hurt him. 

Natasha

Three days have passed, and I don’t think anybody is happy. How can we be when Baz isn’t happy? He may not be the most cheerful lad, but he is what binds us together. Baz is the reason there is still a pitch family and that goes beyond being the heir of it. 

When I found out Malcolm had cheated on me, Baz was only six years old. Too young to understand that even the love we think is unconditional, can become conditional under the right circumstances. Too young to understand what a vampire was. Too young to have met one. Too young to be one. 

Malcolm had been threatening to call me out all summer. He said we couldn’t have a vampire be the leader of the mages. He said we were a disgrace. (Maybe it would’ve been different if it were only Baz. Baz is his son. They’re bound by blood. We were married, but I guess that being a vampire trumps even marriage.) He probably would’ve called the coven on me if Fiona hadn’t intervened. I don’t know what she did, but they were in his office for hours and when they finally emerged, he packed some of his stuff and just left, without making a scene. Without even saying anything, really.

After that, Fiona promised to never leave again. (“See, you need me.” We were laughing like it was a joke. We were crying knowing it wasn’t one.)

Fiona has been wearing herself thin. I don’t know what she’s doing. But she barely leaves her room for anything other than coffee. (I don’t know how much caffeine a human can consume without it endangering their health. But I’m sure she’s drinking more than that.)

She keeps saying she wants to find something to make Baz happy again. But we were outed. We might be killed soon. And even if the American doesn’t contact the British mages, or if I can intervene, we will always need to be scared now. Our secret could be lurking behind any corning and if the mages get wind of it, they won’t care that we only drink animal blood. 

Maybe they’ll let us live with broken fangs and a broken wand. 

No. I won’t let that happen to my son. They can take me. I’d let them kill me, torture me, make an example out of me. I just need to know Baz will be alright. 

It’s my fault. So, it should damn well be my problem to fix. 

Penny 

Baz hasn’t played any of his instruments this week. He once told me music carried his mind through everything and to the right places. I guess some things can’t be fixed on the outside. 

I wish I knew what was going through his mind. This can’t just be a broken heart, but then again, maybe it is. I think he loved him. My dad always says that the heart is where everything starts, so when something is wrong with it, everything stops. I think everything has stopped for Baz. At least for a little while. 

Fiona

With Natasha helping, this plan will be prefect. As long as it turns out the way it’s planned. Which I guess is logically speaking unlikely, but I think it’ll work. 

I just need Baz to hang in there for a few more days. And then he’ll be dancing in the rain again. 

I probably should have let Penny know about the plan. But she has had her hands full with our favourite bundle of teenage angst wrapped up in a bundle of adolescent vampire.

He isn’t like he was the first day. He talks. A lot. But not about what happened, not about Simon, not about music, not about magick, not about books. Not about the things that he loves. 

He smokes. A lot. At first, I wanted to point out how bad it is for you, not caring about how much of a hypocrite I’d be, but then I realized that it’s probably not bad for his health. He’ll always be in perfect health. 

Yesterday I also saw him drinking. I sat by him. I thought maybe it would seem less bad if he wasn’t drinking alone. 

I reached out to him. He said he was tired. I know he wasn’t. 

I know he’ll hang in there. He’s strong. He’s also more human than he thinks, I guess. He may not be able to get sick, but he did get lovesick. And what's more human than that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happiness? What's that?


	6. Frozen Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're happy again. Yay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, lads.

Baz

Fiona and my mum left yesterday. They said they had some business to attend to. Maybe they’ve gone to hunt vampires. Or maybe they were just sick of me. I don’t blame them

I tried to convince myself everything was normal, but it hadn’t been working. When I drank, I tried to laugh it off with Fiona. Act like it’s the same kind of drinking we do when we sneak off together at family parties. But I could see that it hurts her. And I don’t want to hurt her.

I don’t want to hurt Penny either. So yesterday I set her free. 

Except I didn’t. 

I think this is why I’m feeling better. I feel guilty that I’m feeling better, though. Because my mum and Fi aren’t here to see it. But when they come back, I am going to make the Pitch Pasta. It’s what we do when something big has happened. Or something small. Or when we think someone needs it. I think they need it; they deserve it. For dealing with me.

I know I can’t act like everything is okay. But it kind of feels like it’s starting to be okay. It’s been two weeks and Simon hasn’t told our secret. If he hasn’t done it yet, he may not do it after all. He may have convinced himself it didn’t happen. Or be too scared of us to try and do anything about it. 

I’d hate for him to be scared of us, but I think it might be the only way for us to be safe. 

Then again, I thought nobody knowing was the only way to be safe. But I told Penny yesterday. I thought she’d scream and leave like he did. But she stayed. She hugged me and laid her head on my chest. We stayed like that for a while. 

When she looked up, she said she knew who I was: her best friend, not a killer. I laughed and kissed her forehead. I cried and I think she knew. 

“Baaazz. BAZ. BAA-AAASILTOOOOONN.” 

“Penny, light of my day, platonic love of my life: why the fuck are you up and waking me up at six in the fucking morning. Why this horrendous, hideous crime?” She rolls her eyes at me. Excuse her, she is the one waking me up at this awful hour that none of us should have to witness. 

“Well the wraiths woke me up and it’s kind of your fault cause it’s your family’s house. So, I figured we could suffer together.” 

“Can’t you just take the other side of my bed and sleep here like you usually do?” 

“No, because it’s snowing and I wanna make a snowman. Or a snowvamp. Take your pick.”

“Fuck you.” She stares me down. “Fine.” 

I’m cold, but I feel warm. No cold skin or cold snow is ever going to take away the warmth family creates, I guess. And Penny is that. 

I thought her knowing would change everything. I thought she wouldn’t want to be friends anymore. But we’re laughing together, throwing snowballs and making snowvamps. I guess that changed. Our snowmen have fangs now. 

I think that’s a good change. 

Simon

The flowers are basically frozen over, but I reach for the doorbell anyway. At least I tried. It’s not like the flowers are just going to take away me running away screaming the last time I saw him. 

When he opens the door, he’s even more beautiful than I let myself remember. He’s wearing jeans and oh my god his legs and—

“Eyes up here, please. I assume you’re here for a reason.” Still as practical as I remember, then. 

I don’t know what to say to him, so I just stand there dumbfounded for a minute and then shove the frozen over roses to him. Probably not the best move. It catches him off guard, however, and I think that’s a good thing. He finally gives up on expecting and answer and gestures for me to come in. 

I finally notice that he has a jacket on and that there’s snow in his hair. The leather jacket makes him look very tough and cool while the snow in his hair makes him look almost angelic. It’s an odd, but very Baz and very beautiful combination. 

When we’re all sitting down and have a cup of tea in our hands (I almost forgot how British they were) and when Baz and Penelope are both staring me down with equally intimidating faces, I remember I should probably talk. So, I do. 

“Okay, so before you think I’ve come to judge you or think that I’m scared of you or think I’m mad at you, I have to admit I wasn’t entirely honest with you either.”

Baz interrupts me: “We know you’re a mage and we are too.”

What the fuck? How the fuck? I mean I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s Baz: he speaks more languages than I can probably name, he’s always perfectly eloquent and he’s a genius. He probably went to Watford, then. That must be hoe he managed to go unnoticed. 

Instead of figuring out the perfect response, I illustrate my own stupidity by saying I didn’t know vampires could be mages. 

“Yes, I’m a vampire and a mage, so it’s possible. Thank you for noticing.” How did we get to this point? He’s all hard lines and cold expressions again. 

“I’m so sorry or leaving. I shouldn’t have. There’s nothing wrong with being who you are, and I love who you are, Baz.”

“A hundred days.” I just proclaimed my love for him and all he gives me is a fucking vague ‘a hundred days’. 

I stand up. I don’t know whether it’s to fight him, to leave, to yell at him or to kiss him. All would sound good right about now. But I’m stopped, because Baz stands up too and he controls himself. So, that leaves me to control myself too. 

He repeats himself but opens up his expression a bit: “A hundred days.”

He looks like himself again. Like the frozen over roses that are laying on the coffee table, I realize. 

“If you still feel like you just said you did in a hundred days, then maybe we can do whatever we’d been doing before, but we’re not ready now. At least, I am not, ma chérie.” He reaches his hand to my cheek. His hands are cold, but I’ve never felt so warm. 

Then the moment is broken, because we hear a crunch noise. We both look to see Penelope eating one of the biscuits. 

“What guys? The biscuits looked good and it didn’t seem like you were ever going to notice anything but each other.” 

We all laugh. It’s the happy laugh that I think we all wanted. Even if I didn’t think a hundred days is what I wanted. 

Fiona

Nat and I basically searched the whole of the US, before we finally found out where Snow was. I made the perfect plan of how we could fix this. I had booked three concert halls. I dozens of Baz’s favourite flowers flown all the way to the US for when we were done with the Simon-part and had gotten to the lure-Baz-to-Simon-part. Dozens of bloody flowers. What am I supposed to do with all these?

But no, Simon just had to go fix this all by himself. 

So now we’re flying back, I guess. Finally, no more Americans trying to imitate our accents. 

I just hope that we’ll come back to a happy Baz. And a decent Baz. I texted him we were coming back so he better not be doing things that our ancestors’ ghosts wouldn’t want to see. Then again, maybe he needs it. 

Penelope 

When the headmistress comes in, she immediately smells the Pitch Pasta that we just finished. (Baz insisted that I helped. ‘An honorary Pitch’, he called me.) She almost runs to the kitchen to hug her son. It’s strange to see the usually always collected headmistress like this, but it’s nice to see them all happy again. Fiona is cracking jokes again. I almost forgot how weird it was to see her be so serious these past few weeks. 

When I see Fiona go up into her room, I follow her. 

The door cracks when I open it and Fiona immediately has her wand out, and when she sees it’s me immediately puts it down. 

“What do you want, kiddo?” She’s sorting through old photographs. When she seems to have found the one she’s looking for she takes it out and burns it. Why do Pitches always burn everything? Bins are a thing. 

‘I was wondering whether you might know anything about Baz’s final essay and its whereabouts?” I’m really hoping she knows. Curiosity has been killing me for years. I just don’t get how Baz could have failed it. Essays always were his favourite. 

“Oh yeah of course.” She points to a wardrobe. “Bottom drawer, right there. Baz asked me to keep it safe, bit it’s been years, so I think that must be transpired.”

When I take it out, I immediately see a red hundred at the top. That sweet wanker. His mum didn’t take pity on him. The headmistress only has a soft spot for Baz, so he must’ve asked her to make us both valedictorians. 

I put it back in the drawer and make a mental note to give him a hug later. He doesn’t need to know that I know just yet, though. 

Baz 

I’m looking at all the faces of my family, Simon’s family and all of our friends. Simon didn’t want a big wedding. I’m a Pitch, so we couldn’t make it too small. So we will have more people at the dinner and party later on, but right now only the most important people are here. 

Even though I know all these people, their eyes all on me still make me kind of nervous. But Penny is right next to me as my best woman. So that makes it better.

Simon enters with his mother and they have never looked more similar than in this moment. Their smiles are almost dropping of their faces, they’re so big. A breath leaves me that I didn’t know I was holding. I get this man to love and hold. He’ll be my husband. And I’ll be his. I don’t think it gets better than that. 

Simon elaborately clears his throat. 

“I want to thank you, first of all. I want to thank you for showing me that love isn’t needing someone to be there, but wanting someone there, because it’d be better together. I want you with me, always. So, I promise to be there for you, always. I promise to love you beyond anything, and I promise to never make fun of your hair products again. Well, I promise to try to not make fun of your hair products again.”

The audience laughs and I do too. I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, but I don’t care, because I know he’s here to catch them. He’s been here to catch them ever since the hundred days ended. First as friends and then as lovers. We didn’t rush anything then and we aren’t going to rush anything now. So, when we are told we may now kiss the groom, we do so slowly. Knowing we have all the time in the world. And I wouldn’t trade a minute of him. 

Simon 

When I started writing music, I wrote about joyous things. I wrote about experiences that made me feel joy. When I write music now, I write about what brings me happiness. I write about Baz and Cherry. (Baz said we couldn’t name our daughter Cherry, so we didn’t. But she goes by Cherry now anyway, because it fits her best. Even Baz calls her Cherry, but usually in his fancy French accent, so like ma chérie.) 

Baz and I stepped out of the industry to teach at Watford ages ago, a few years after our hundred days. Baz said the Watford curriculum could use more music. I think he just wanted an excuse to bring me with him. But I’m not complaining. My job is very chill, the headmaster being my husband and all.

Right now, we are making a small sidestep back into the music industry, though. Cherry wanted us to make a Christmas song together. So, we’re recording it at the manor. In the rose garden. We’ve reclaimed it over the years. 

When I look up to Baz holding Cherry, I know this is happiness. They’re the best thing I’ve ever seen, even if I see them every day. Cherry is the cutest like nine-year-old you’ll ever see in her small tuxedo and Baz is the best-looking forty-seven-year-old you’ll ever see. And I? I am the happiest man you’ll ever see. 

It’s a Holly Jolly Christmas, indeed.


End file.
